Highland Groom

by Hannah Howell

  “And the young lass she made her lover wasnae, or isnae, much saner, I suspect.”

  “Nay, and reading your wife’s writings has only made me e’en more certain that that woman is the one we seek.”

  “But, ye willnae tell me if ye found some hint as to where or who, will ye?”

  Sigimor shook his head. “Nay, for I cannae be sure. I need to talk to Liam. Talking on what few suspicions I have now will serve nay purpose, may e’en falsely raise your hopes.”

  Diarmot did not think his hopes could get any higher, but he made no further argument. He had tried very hard not to let his expectations grow and had failed miserably. Every instinct he had told him he would soon find the answers he had sought for so long. He was not sure he could endure another disappointment.

  Anger, bitterness, and fear had ruled his life for too long. The anger and bitterness had faded, time working its magic on the wounds Anabelle had inflicted. Ilsa had aided that healing as well, and it was past time he recognized that gift. The fear lingered, fed by his still-incomplete memories and his unknown enemy. It had been bad enough when the enemy had been his alone, but now his foe sought to kill his wife and had shown that he, or she, cared nothing about the lives of his children, either. He wanted that enemy gone, the fear scoured from his life, and the threat removed from his family. It was past time this game ended. He briefly glanced back in the direction of Clachthrom. When he rode back through those gates, he wanted to do so as a man who remembered the past, but was free of it.

  “Do ye think he will find the truth?” asked Fraser as she sat beside Ilsa at the head table in the great hall.

  Ilsa looked at Fraser, Gay, and Glenda who were obviously making the most of enjoying a midday meal but could not completely hide their intense curiosity. She had called the women together for a council of war, as she liked to think of it. Since Nanty was with the four older children and Jenny was watching the four youngest, it seemed a perfect time.

  “Aye, I think he will, or most of it,” Ilsa replied. “E’en before that fall brought so many of his memories back, Diarmot’s memory was stirring. A few words or some incident would yank free an odd memory now and again. He is now riding to the place where it all began. The truth, however, may nay give him all the answers he seeks.”

  “Oh, ye mean he may nay find his enemy?”

  “There is that chance, but I think tis a small one. I just worry because this enemy has remained nay more than a chimera for so long. Diarmot’s lack of memory helped, tis certain. I e’en think that beating happened because Diarmot had drawn too close to the truth. What puzzles me is, why did naught else happen for so verra long?”

  “Because, if he couldnae remember anything, what was the need to kill him?” asked Gay, then frowned. “Nay, that makes no sense, for someone seems to have been trying to kill him before that.”

  “Aye, e’er since Anabelle died, Diarmot appears to have become an extremely unlucky mon,” said Ilsa.

  “Ye are certain that is when it all started?”

  “Aye. I decided to ask about, to see if there was a clearly marked time when all of Diarmot’s troubles began. There was. But, puzzling o’er all that isnae why I wished to have this wee talk.”

  “Nay? Ye dinnae want to ken the answers to all of this?”

  “I do, desperately. I feel those answers will only help me. Howbeit, tis truly only Diarmot who can hunt down all those answers for they are all tangled up in the memory he still cannae grasp.”

  “So, why did ye want this meeting? And that is what this is, aye?”

  “Aye.” Ilsa folded her hands upon the table and looked at each woman in turn. “Since the men seek out the who and the why, I think tis our duty to seek out the traitor. I think that can be done e’en if we dinnae ken the who and the why.”

  Fraser nodded. “It can. Ye dinnae always need to ken why a mon becomes a traitor to discover his betrayal.”

  “Couldnae it be dangerous?” asked Gay.

  “I was poisoned in my own solar, right within these walls,” said Ilsa. “I think the danger is here already.”

  “Ah, of course. Still, I think Nanty is searching for the traitor.”

  “It willnae hurt if we do the same. In truth, since Nanty is the laird’s brother, he may have some trouble getting many people to talk freely to him. His murderous uncle didnae win many people’s hearts. Then, shortly after he became laird here, Diarmot wed Anabelle and she only added to the unease and mistrust that still clings to this place and its laird. I fear Diarmot’s unhappiness and then his wariness, his suspicious nature, didnae win many allies, either.”

  Glenda shook her head. “Nay. He cares for these lands and the people better than his uncle did, but he was e’er distant, an anger clinging to him that kept people wary. The lad ne’er had a chance to bring this wee clan together ere he was mired in his own troubles. And, after that beating, weel, he didnae have to accuse anyone to his face for most to ken he was eyeing them all as if they held a dirk at his throat.”

  It was all so sad, Ilsa thought as she chewed on a thick slice of bread layered with soft cheese. Diarmot’s uncle had spent most of his life drunk, jealous of his own brother, and sunk in plots that kept three clans tearing at each other’s throats until they had nearly obliterated each other. The man had done nothing to strengthen his own lands or people. She suspected that when Diarmot had arrived to take his place as laird, there had been a brief flicker of hope only to have it crushed. The new laird had quickly become all caught up in his own troubled, unhappy life. Some things had improved, but no sense of unity or loyalty had been established. To the people of Clachthrom, their laird was a morose stranger. To Diarmot, the people of Clachthrom were all possible threats.

  Once all this trouble was behind them, Diarmot would have a lot of work to do. He was going to have to bring this small branch of the MacEnroy clan a sense of unity, that sense of family that made a clan so strong. Clachthrom had promise and he was going to have to win the trust and respect of his people to fulfill it. Ilsa did not think it would be too difficult. In many ways, he had already improved the lot of his people. Diarmot just had to let them come to know him as a man.

  “That constant air of suspicion around Diarmot can be wearying,” Ilsa said. “One may understand why tis there and sympathize, but it can still set one’s teeth to grinding. Twill be better soon, once Diarmot kens exactly who his enemy is.”

  “But, can he forget and forgive?” asked Glenda. “I dinnae care to think on how many of the men on these lands cuckolded him.”

  “He didnae banish the men or hang anyone, did he? No beatings? No cut throats?”

  “Nay, nary a one. I think he put most of the blame upon his wife, then simply stopped caring.”

  “Weel, I dinnae see the men as quite so blameless. After all, Diarmot’s brothers resisted the woman. She wasnae raping the men. Mayhap some of the trouble round here is caused by guilt. But it matters not. Diarmot willnae be punishing anyone. He didnae then, and he willnae now. I think he just wants Anabelle set firmly in the past, all wrongs and sins forgotten. That will soon be clear to all those cuckolders. We must concern ourselves with only one mon now.”

  “The traitor,” said Gay. “Do ye think it a mon?”

  “Aye, I do,” replied Ilsa, “and I cannae tell ye why I do. That doesnae mean we should ignore the women, however. I could be wrong. It could be one of them. All I ken is that someone is helping our enemy, that a traitor walks the halls of this keep and that brings the danger too close to the bairns for my liking.”

  All three women heartily agreed and Fraser asked, “Who do ye suspect?”

  “Everyone save ourselves, Jenny, Nanty, and Tom.”

  “Geordie, too?” asked Gay. “Your husband believed what the mon said about the poisoned wine and that maid is still missing.”

  “It may be the truth,” replied Ilsa, “and Nanty intends to hunt down that maid. Yet, I just cannae fully trust the mon. Dinnae ask me to explain why,
as I cannae. Tis mostly a feeling. Could be instinct giving me a warning I should heed. Could be I just dinnae like dour men and Geordie is a verra dour mon. I will watch him.”

  “And I will find out what I can about the women working at the keep,” said Glenda. “Gay can help some.” She smiled faintly at Fraser, a hint of apology in her look. “I am nay sure ye can be much help there. Ye are tied too closely to the old lady of the keep and now the new one.”

  “I ken it.” Fraser took a sip of wine, then frowned. “Isnae Gay tied rather closely to the new lady also?”

  “Some, but she is the wet nurse, common born, and verra young. E’en though many people can see she is treated verra weel, nay like a servant, she is more one of them than ye are. And Jenny can help. Ye and her ladyship can watch the men.”

  “If the women would have trouble confiding in Ilsa or me, why should the men be any easier to get information out of?”

  “Because ye are a woman.” Glenda laughed softly at Fraser’s look of confusion. “As long as ye dinnae set the fool in a chair and openly question him, a mon willnae guard his words as carefully around a woman as he will a mon. Most men simply cannae see a woman as a threat. Since they dinnae feel threatened, they speak freely. Tom and Nanty will also be watching each and every mon, too, but as some poor, weak, foolish woman, I suspect ye have a better chance of uncovering some clue.” Glenda winked and the other women laughed.

  They talked over their plans as they finished their meal and Ilsa felt hopeful. The number of people she and Diarmot could trust might be small, but they were clever and loyal. Since the traitor had to watch closely, gather information, and get that information to his master, he had to leave a trail. Things had moved swiftly since her poisoning and the men’s attention had quickly become fixed upon finding the enemy who would, in turn, lead them to the traitor. Ilsa would dearly like to present them with that traitor when they returned.

  Gay and Fraser excused themselves but when Glenda also began to leave, Ilsa briefly grasped her by the hand, halting her. “Dinnae mistake me, Glenda, I am verra pleased ye have decided to come live at the keep. That said, I feel the need to ask if ye are certain this is what ye really want.”

  “Och, aye.” Glenda patted Ilsa’s hand. “I had a nice wee house, but twas all it was. A nice wee house. A nice wee empty house. Aye, I have some friends in the village, but we can still visit each other. Here, weel, it certainly willnae be lonely. I can also do my healing work for all who need it, but dinnae have to worry about keeping warm, or dry, or my belly full. And here I can be safe.”

  “Was there some danger for ye in the village? I ken Wallace said—”

  “Wheesht, that was just an angry young fool saying hard words without thought. Yet there have been times when fear or grief made people turn angry eyes upon me. Tis the lot of a healer. The same gift of healing and herb lore they all seek when they are hurt or ill becomes dark and threatening when there comes an illness that cannae be cured. Or a blight or drought which can bring hunger. Ye cannae always depend upon good sense prevailing in time to save ye from harm. Weel, here I nay only have companionship when I want it, and all my wordly needs met, but I have verra thick walls guarded by some fine, burly men to hide behind if tis necessary. Nay, I want to stay here, lass.”

  “Weel, then, weelcome to Clachthrom.”

  Ilsa rested her forearms on the walls and stared out over the moonlit lands of Clachthrom. She had tried sleeping, but was too restless. She thought on what Diarmot was doing, whether he would succeed in his quest, and whether it would change anything between them. A sigh escaped her when she finally admitted to herself that she hated sleeping in that bed all alone.

  “What are ye looking at, Mama?”

  Odo stepped up beside her and Ilsa gave him what she hoped was a very stern frown. “Ye shouldnae be up on these walls, my fine lad. I cannae believe Fraser let ye come up here alone. Nor would anyone else.”

  “I had to talk to ye, Mama. I have come up here before, too.”

  “Alone? At night?”

  “Weel, nay.”

  “Odo, my love, ye are a verra clever boy, but I think ye need to try harder to remember that ye are still just a wee laddie. Climbing up to the top of the keep’s walls, at night, isnae something a lad of but five should be doing.”

  “I am sorry, Mama.”

  Ilsa put her arm around the boy. “Just try to remember that ye are a little boy. Ye will grow to be a mon soon enough. Now, what was so important that ye had to follow me here and risk a scold?”

  “Why is Papa unhappy?” asked Odo.

  “Ah, I hadnae realized ye had noticed. There are many reasons. None of them have anything to do with ye. Ye do ken that, dinnae ye?”

  “I think so, but he didnae like us before ye came.”

  “He didnae spend time with ye. That is verra different. There was trouble with his wife, the Lady Anabelle, then there was a lot of work that needed to be done here because his uncle wasnae a verra good laird, and then he was verra, verra ill. Now, that doesnae excuse him for ignoring ye children, but he didnae ignore ye because he didnae want ye or like ye. And he doesnae like ye now just because I got him to pay attention to ye. In truth, he did it all on his own. I didnae do much more than bring ye out of the nursery now and again and talk about ye.”

  Odo frowned for a moment, then nodded. “He got busy and didnae understand that we needed attention.”

  “Exactly. Is that all ye wanted to talk about?”

  “Will he and my uncles find the bad person and kill him so that Papa and ye will be safe?”

  “Aye, Odo, that is their plan. I wish there was some way to make your Papa safe without killing anyone, but I fear it will all end that way. Ye dinnae need to worry. Your father is strong and clever and surrounded by Camerons.”

  “Which undoubtedly makes Diarmot half mad,” said Nanty as he walked up and scowled at them. “Tis verra hard to guard people who willnae stay where they are put.”

  Ilsa allowed herself and Odo to be ushered back into the keep. She did think Nanty overdid the scolding, but bit her tongue to keep from complaining. Telling Nanty he sounded like a fussing old woman would probably not set a good example for Odo. As soon as she could, she kissed Odo good night and fled to her bedchamber. It might be lonely, but Nanty would not follow her in there.

  Chapter SEVENTEEN

  The keep at Dubheidland was impressive. Its walls were thick and high, its gates intimidating, and its great hall well furnished. It was also so filled with redheads, Diarmot was astonished that his eyes did not hurt. As he was led to the big head table, Sigimor abruptly introducing every man or youth they passed, Diarmot suspected it would take him many years to be able to remember all the Camerons by name. He could almost be grateful for Somerled, Sigimor’s twin. That at least was one man he would clearly recall.

  As he sat down and a faintly smiling Somerled served him wine, Diarmot became uncomfortably aware that very few of the looks he was receiving were friendly. Whatever tale the other brothers had told upon returning from Clachthrom had not won him any friends. He was not sure that whatever Sigimor chose to tell the gathered throng would help change that.

  “Did Alexander’s wife have the baby?” asked Sigimor as he sat down between Somerled and Diarmot and helped himself to some wine.

  “Aye, wee Mairi gave Alexander a son,” replied Somerled. “They named the lad James and have gone to show her family the boy. Tis the first male born to that family for quite a while. He may weel be named heir, for there havenae been any other bairns born, either, and it doesnae look as if there will be.”

  “That will suit our Alexander fine, I suspect, although he didnae marry the lass for gain.” Sigimor looked around and scowled at his brothers and cousins. “Why are ye all looking so fierce?”

  “Why have ye brought Ilsa’s mon and nay Ilsa?” asked a tall, thin youth with hair very similar to Ilsa’s. “S’truth, from what Gilbert told us, I cannae understand why ye havenae gut
ted him.”

  “I cannae go about gutting your sister’s husbands, Patone,” Sigimor said. “Now, either Gilbert didnae tell the tale weel or ye didnae listen clear. So, clean out your earholes ere I do it for ye, and listen. I am only going to tell the tale once.”

  It only took a few moments for Diarmot to decide once was more than enough. Sigimor told no lies, but he softened no truths as he saw them, either. Diarmot did think the man did not need to repeat the fact that he considered his sister’s husband’s wits sadly rattled as often as he did. By the time Sigimor had finished, however, most of the looks cast his way were a little friendlier. Some, unfortunately, looked as if they expected him to start drooling.

  “We were wondering why we havenae heard from ye,” Sigimor said to Somerled. “I would have thought someone would have discovered something by now.”

  “Actually, Liam was preparing to go to Clachthrom in a day or two if we didnae hear from ye soon,” said Somerled.

  “What has he discovered then?”

  “I sent Gilbert for him the moment ye were seen. He ought to be here soon, and he can tell ye himself.”

  “Tis time for a meal. I am surprised he isnae here already. The lad hates to miss a meal.”

  “He hates to miss something else, too, and he was off getting a wee bit of the other when ye rode in.”

  “Nay wonder the lad ne’er gets fat from all the food he shoves down his gullet. He is tupping himself bone-thin every day and night. Do I ken the lass?”

  “Nay. She isnae married and I doubt she will try pressing for marriage, either. I think Liam finally listened to some of what ye told him. I would ne’er have thought near drowning him in a horse trough would make him heed your words of wisdom, but it seems to have done so. Either that or he fears for his life,” Somerled murmured and ignored Sigimor’s scowl.